From Future with Love
by YaoiLord
Summary: It was one Friday morning when three children appeared, claiming Barry and Oliver as their parents. And it might just be what the two vigilantes needed to push themselves together to the right direction.


so, yeah, another random fanfic. yay me.

* * *

Barry wakes up to a lot of missed calls and frantic texts from S.T.A.R. Labs asking for his presence _right now._

He's not sure what to make of the messages with a lot of exclamation marks and Cisco's shrieks of _"don't touch that!"_ on the other line when Barry rings him, the call ending at that instant.

It sounds serious.

Once he arrives at the labs though, it turns out to be _more_ than serious.

It's a disaster.

There are two kids running around and playing with the equipment at the cortex. The mannequin of his Flash suit already at the floor while there are some glass shards that litter the floor along with some screwdrivers and other small tools Cisco uses. The little boy glides around the area making " _wee"_ sounds, riding the rolling chair with one foot in the air that looks _very_ hazardous to Barry.

In an instant, he grabs the kid and puts him in a high stool. The boy beams at him with bright blue eyes. "Papa!" he says at Barry, much to the speedster's astonishment, before demanding, "Do it again!"

"Barry, thank God!" Cisco exclaims once he notices him. "You have to do something with this little—little brats!" His attention goes to the little girl who gets ahold of his vibe gloves and fitting it to her little hand. "Hey, not that!"

Barry speeds his way to her, preventing the girl from pushing random buttons on Cisco's gadget, and then settling her on another stool. Like the boy, she happily grins up at him and yells "Papa!" and bounces on her seat, arms raising and asking to be lifted.

It only confuses Barry more.

"Where's Caitlin?"

"She's using the van and guiding Wally in chasing something, or someone, that came out of a small wormhole a mile away. Whatever it is, it runs at great speed the instant it lands here."

Albeit reluctantly, Cisco agrees to watch over the two kids when Barry decided to check it out himself. He turns to them, gently tells them to behave until he comes back. He smiles at them softly when they look up with their bright, innocent eyes. It's a good thing he likes kids and has the most infinite patience for them.

He arrives to where Caitlin and Wally are—at Central Park. And with them is a boy of ten ( _twelve?_ ) with brown tuff of hair, crying his eyes out.

Caitlin is trying to console the young kid while Kid Flash is awkwardly balancing his weight on two feet. Wally fills him on what Barry missed. The unknown kid is a speedster, he says, with speed surprisingly as fast as the older ones that made the chase more difficult until the boy stopped himself to bawl his eyes out.

Barry wonders what's with today that he keeps encountering children running amok.

And there's the matter that at least two of them called him 'Papa'.

Barry kneels in front of the kid whose head is buried on his knees, whimpering and mumbling something unintelligible.

"Hey," he coaxes gently. "It's alright." Barry's hand pats the head, fingers carding the hair comfortingly. "You're safe."

The kid's head snaps up to him, familiar green eyes watery as he leaps forward to hook his arms around him and sobs on his neck. Barry readily encircles his arms on him, the feeling somewhat natural for some reasons.

The kid settles down in hiccups, murmuring, "Sorry, pops. I lost Moira and Robert. I'm just carrying them and then I ran so fast and then there's this blue light and… a-and—"

 _Ollie's parents? And did he just call me 'pops'?_ He blinks before assuring him again that it'll be fine and that they'll be bringing him to S.T.A.R. Labs. The boy refuses to let go of him so Barry has no choice but carry him on the way.

When they arrive at the cortex, the two other kids are still where he left them, happily munching away protein bars that don't really taste that good (based from Barry's experience) and yet they chew on them like some kind of candy. Cisco's sitting on the other side of the room, frowning suspiciously at the occupied children.

He looks at Barry incredulously and notes the boy, older than the other two, with him. "You have _three_ kids?"

"What? No, they're not mine."

"They say you're their Papa."

Well, they did call him that. "And I don't know why," Barry insists. He thinks the children are mistaken and only confusing him for their father.

The two younger kids seem glad when they saw him, and then cheer as they pointed at the boy he's carrying.

"It's Henry!"

"He's here too!"

There's a gleeful yell of, _"yays!"_ that followed.

Barry sets the boy, Henry, down who wasted no time to gather his younger siblings in a hug, crying in joy and relief while the younger kids thought they've been playing hide-and-seek all along and their older brother finally finds them.

He can't help but find the sight adorable.

Cisco and Caitlin and Wally shares some looks until the female clears her throat to get Barry's attention.

"Yes?" He turns to her with a small smile. Caitlin vaguely gestures at the three kids that appeared out of nowhere. "Oh, right."

Barry puts his hands on his hip, interrupting their mini reunion. "So, uh, how did you guys get here?"

"It's my fault," Henry admits. "I took Moira and Robert outside with me without your permission and they ask me to run really _really_ fast on the way home until there's a blue hole that suddenly appeared in front of me and I can't stop myself from running. I passed the hole and then they're gone from my arms."

Cisco mouthed the word _wormhole_ while Barry and Wally quizzically caught something at the statement.

"Did you say _my_ permission?" Barry asks.

Henry nods. "Yeah. You said I should limit my speed and don't run too fast when I have Moira and Robert with me."

"When did I tell you that?"

Henry thinks hard of the answer. "Um, I forgot but I think it's a long time ago."

Wally is even more confused. "What? How's that—oh wait."

The two of them seem to arrive at the same conclusion.

"What year is it now, Henry?" Barry inquires for the sake of clarity.

When the boy replies with a year that is supposed to be for another decade, he confirms that they have three time-traveling children at hand.

And the only explanation as to why they keep calling him 'Papa' is that they're all Barry's kids from the future.

That will also explain why one of the kid's name is Henry and he's a speedster (meta genes seem inheritable). As for the other two though, he isn't sure what to make out of.

 _If I'm their dad, then… crap_. "Okaaay. So who's your mommy?"

 _Please don't say Thea Queen._

 _Please don't say Thea Queen._

 _Please don't say Thea Queen._

Because the Green Arrow will surely kill Barry and dump his sorry ass somewhere that you'll find Jimmy Hoffa first before him.

Maybe in the year the children came from, he's already rotting in some ditch.

The three of them look up at Barry in puzzlement.

"But you said we don't have a mommy," Robert says with a cutely scrunched up face.

"William is the one with mommy, Aunt Sam," Moira pipes in. "She's nice."

Barry is even more perplexed. He's using the logic here that with the two younger one's names, they're names of his _supposedly_ partner's parents.

 _But if it's not Thea…_

"But we have a Daddy!"

They did mention they don't have a mommy. And Barry is the _Papa_ , then that means—

 _Oh no._

By some weird play of fate, Oliver Queen comes in to the cortex with his usual business-like expression on and no nonsense mood to get straight to the point, in casual attire but on his hand is his mechanical bow and strapped on his shoulder is some bag that Barry assumes has the arrows.

He nods to the team, raised an eyebrow to the kids present but didn't ask, and then turns to the speedster. "Barry, did you get Felicity's—"

"Daddy!"

Oliver Queen is suddenly bombarded with hugs on his legs and waist when the three almost tackled him to the ground. Barry can see the man struggling to suppress his instincts, and at the same time confused at the children latched to him.

Barry thinks it's funny.

"I'm not your," the vigilante manages to say. Moira makes grabby hands at him, asking to be lifted in which Oliver stares at her down. But she remains unmoving, arms in the air and waiting. With a gruff, Oliver complies with the request and elevates the girl with ease. "I'm not your Dad."

He catches Barry's eyes and sent him a silent _what's going on_ look.

"Erm," Barry begins ungracefully, not sure how to bring the matter up. "They're from the future and travels to this year by accident."

Oliver is quiet but frowns.

"And they called me 'Papa' and they called you 'Daddy' and they said they don't have a mom so… thatmeanswe'retheirparents?" Barry hastily tells him the last bit that nobody understands. Though he's sure Oliver gets his point.

When he sees the Green Arrow's unreadable expression, Barry winces internally because that's basically like a prelude to a rain of arrows on his back later.

* * *

The cortex became a small kindergarten that morning. And it's a new experience for the team that some of them seem to be moonlighting as professional babysitters.

It's a particularly sunny and quiet day at Central that the crime alert beeping is yet to sound. It's like the ne'er-do-wellers chose the day as their holiday of some sort.

Not that anybody is complaining. They have enough on their plate as it is.

But while it's one pleasant Friday, with childish giggles and the hyperactive energy of adorable little kids who claim to be his children, Barry can't avoid internally wincing at Oliver's deep set frown whenever he spares the man a glance.

He might be observing the vigilante much—notices the way his jaw fixes, the grimace when being called 'Daddy' or 'Dad', the way he pinches the bridge of his nose as if sensing an impending headache at the rate the kids are shrieking in high pitch.

When Barry indulges them with ice cream and other sweets and junk foods that he personally likes, Oliver gives him an expression of disapproval though he doesn't voice whatever he's thinking.

 _Now we know who the fun parent is,_ Barry thinks idly.

Of course, he just easily pertains to them being parents because, to be honest, he's clueless on how to broach the subject.

Alright, fine, he might have a severe case of admiration for the vigilante— _not Oliver Queen because that guy is a douche—_ despite the cold stares and modulated gruff voice he uses whenever he talks to Barry. But that alone doesn't actually merit romantic feelings, and _Jesus, we'll even have a family._

Try as he might, he can't imagine how it will come to that.

Though somewhere from his mind came a picture of a probable distant future, an outdoor activity; _a family picnic,_ he decides. There are six of them: Henry, Robert, Moira, an older William Clayton, and then him and Oliver. He's seated on the wide cloth spread on the grass, and across him is one Oliver Queen, who has these laugh lines and wrinkles on his face that Barry likes to run his fingers on at nights and mornings lying beside each other. You'd think that the relaxed and satisfied-looking person with him isn't the same Star City vigilante who was broken beyond repair after everything he endured. Oliver will glance at him then, doing their silent communication thing and will ask what Barry's thinking while he's studying him.

And then Barry will answer with… well, he hasn't thought that far.

But the way it plays out inside his head, Barry realizes it isn't that bad.

It's a rather promising future.

* * *

Cisco, Caitlin, and Wally left to get enough food for everybody—triple the amount with the three speedsters present—against Barry's insistence to do it himself. But they seem to get Oliver's looking aghast underneath that pokerface at the prospect of being left alone with the children. And yeah, Barry would rather not have a sulking vigilante with him today.

He catches Henry staring at him after a round of waltz (Robert and Moira asking to dance at the same time therefore there were three of them dancing in a circle, hand-on-hand) with the twins as they go bother Oliver next.

"Is there something wrong?" Barry asks him.

The kid perks up, shaking his head. "It's just that you're not wearing it." He observes the older speedster, tilting slightly. "I mean your glasses, pops. I rarely see you without one."

 _I wear glasses?_ Barry doesn't expect his eyesight to get bad sooner.

Henry appears to be able to know what's on his mind. "Oh, no, no. Don't worry, you keep bragging about your twenty-twenty vision." He smiles cheekily. "I noticed that you began wearing one when Dad said they look good on you."

It piques Barry's interest. "Really?" He inches closer, as if listening to a juicy detail. "Oliver said that?"

Henry nods eagerly. "And, um, Dad says ya know, glasses makes you…what's that term?"

"Dorky?"

"Not that, pops. Though he did mention once that you're a _hot nerd_." Barry blushes at that in which Henry goes sheepish, admitting he eavesdropped on them once. Henry suddenly snaps his fingers. "I remember! Dad said you look _ravishing_ in glasses."

"I-I what?"

That was smooth, considering it's Oliver they're talking about here.

"Whatever that means," Henry murmurs then chuckles nervously. "I'm a living spoiler now, aren't I?" he asks. "Oh, and just for the record, pops, I know. I know that I did that time-travel thing."

"Who told you?"

"I uh, piece it together and eavesdropped some?"

Barry sighs. "Then I expect that you'll be careful next time."

The boy looks apologetic. "You also told me that even the smallest of detail can change a lot of things. I'll try not to ruin the timeline so bad next time, pops."

At least he doesn't seem to inherit Barry's tendency to do so.

"About Dad," Henry starts, curious. "Does that mean you're not together right now?"

Barry snorts. "We're just friends. Nothing more, nothing less."

The boy's face fell at that. "Crap. Us being here might change the fact that you created us." He groans.

"Nothing to do about that." Barry awkwardly pats his future son's back. "It's an accident, buddy. Time is a fickle thing. But if there's one thing that I also believe, it's fate. If it's bound to happen, then it will happen."

"Sure, I mean, if I'm supposed to be born in this world then it's unavoidable, but probably will grow up to different family," he says glumly. "Like I don't get William as an older brother, and then the twins as my ducklings. And I don't get the Flash and Green Arrow as my cool parents."

Barry feels bad for laughing at Henry's pouting face. He apologizes, expression morphing into an honest smile. "Look, Henry. I can't guarantee that I'll have you. But know that whoever you came from or grow up to, I'd like you to be happy."

Somehow, Barry's attachment to the kids out of time scares him. It's impressive that they captured his fondness for them in less than a day.

And it's also saddening to think that it's possible to miss out the door of opportunity to this outcome.

* * *

Felicity seems suspicious as Oliver tried to explain the situation as vaguely as possible through the phone. Though when he told her about a _slightly_ longer stay with Barry, she hummed in understanding, even saying, "have fun" with a giggle he doesn't know what to make of.

Just like his attitude towards the current situation.

There's an uncertainty in him; doubts the children's story of he and Barry being their parents. But Oliver is a man of instincts, and his instincts sense a pull of familiarity. Looking at them, he can see the resemblance, mannerisms and some features that they may have inherited. Henry, for example has the same freckles and green eyes like Barry's. Moira and Robert have the same blue eyes of his, albeit in deeper shade. The little girl even has his late mother's blonde hair and that intelligent look in her eyes. She reminds him of Thea and he knows she'll grow up fiery and passionate like her. Little Robert's grin resembles that of Oliver's father's, toothy and with cheekbones protruding.

It's like a sick joke to Oliver. As if somebody is playing with his feelings of longing for his parents that he thought he had already come into terms with. They even bear their names, for goodness sake.

But mainly it's like a mocking. Watching the kids running around the lab with their _Papa_ chasing in his normal speed, Oliver thinks this is all natural to Barry with the way he's playing with the little ones, and he can't help but quietly admire how Barry handles them, _this_ —the idea that he'll be having a person like Oliver in the later years and will be building a family with a man who deems himself incapable and undeserving of having one.

Is this the universe saying that he'll be having these troublesome but wonderful children; will be having a kind-hearted close friend as his husband, and realizing that Oliver's the most dangerous person in this future family of his and that he'll end up destroying whatever happiness it holds?

"I want to sit on your lap," a small voice says in the middle of his musing. Oliver swivels down to see Moira staring up at him. He smiles wryly. The kid is not even asking if she can; she's demanding.

He sits himself and gingerly picks her up to put on his legs—she's light, he notices. The girl said nothing when she curls himself on him, head resting on his chest like she belongs there, small arms encircling some of his torso she can reach. He tenses on the touch, debating whether to hold her back or not. He's afraid that he'll put more force than necessary that he'll break the soft body. Gently, he rests his hand on the small of her back instead, keeping her in place and intending it as a gesture of affection.

It isn't long until she falls asleep.

"Somebody's a Daddy's girl," Barry, the instant he's on the vigilante's side and carrying a slumbering Robert, comments in low volume. Oliver doesn't have to look at him to know the speedster is grinning at them. "It suits you," Barry adds as an afterthought.

Oliver turns at him, unsure if he's being teased, but then he finds out he isn't when Barry smiles at him sincerely. Oliver curves his lips and remains silent.

It's enough for Barry to get the message as he sits beside him, adjusting the boy to his lap with Robert's head against his chest.

"I'll place Robert in a spare bed in the clinic. He's dead tired too." Oliver then hears Barry singing faintly under his breath, which the former observes that Barry has a nice voice, patting the boy on his thigh with the tune. "There's an extra for Moira as well if you like."

Oliver politely refuses the offer. There's a part in him that doesn't want to upset the girl by waking up without him. "Henry?"

"Stuffing himself." Barry huffs a laugh. "Wally is with him. And Cisco and Caitlin would like to test his speed. The kid is enthusiastic. I kinda worry for him when he grows up. He said he'd like to be the Flash too, someday," he says. It dawns on Oliver that Barry sounded like a worried parent already.

"Do Joe and Iris know about them?"

"Oh, they'll be spoiled rotten if they find out," he mutters with a grin. "But I'd rather keep this to us. And as much as I feel bad for it, I think the kids being here in this year alone already messes up the time."

"About that," Oliver begins. "How do you plan to return them on their original time?"

"That's what our Legend friends are for," Barry answers. "They'll be here in an hour or so, Cisco said. The team is almost wrapping up a mission in 1970s."

They're both silent as Oliver watches Robert sleeping, which in turn makes Barry watch Moira. Absentmindedly, he reaches out to tuck a strand of her hair in a feather light movement. "She's beautiful."

Oliver's gaze softens. "She is."

"She'll be a heartbreaker someday." Barry catches his eyes, smirking. "Just like her Daddy."

Oliver lets the statement slide, but his brows furrow together. "No. Boys are not allowed until she's 28 years old." He's serious that there's no room for debate.

"Wow, I'm right that you're going to be the fun parent."

"And you'll be the lenient one who lets them get away with anything," Oliver shoots back.

The younger man raises his hands in surrender. "We can put labels later when we cross the bridge," he says, until embarrassment blooms at his face at the slip up.

He doesn't exactly want to insinuate that he plans on getting them together, but _oh_ _well._

Yet, Oliver surprises him by agreeing. "Fair point."

"Ollie?" Barry asks suddenly and stops humming the lullaby entirely. "Do you think we'll be good parents?"

"I'm sure you'll be." Oliver doesn't doubt that. But if it's about himself, then all he could say is he'll try his best, like how he's doing with William so far.

"No, I'm talking about both of us. If we'll do this parenting right." Barry strokes Robert's soft cheek subconsciously. "Why am I even asking?" he muses. "I know we will be."

Hearing the speedster's confidence makes Oliver assured of himself. Barry's right. Why the question when they can simply look at these angels and see how well they're raised.

Oliver feels that the present moment will be one of his most memorable ones—sitting like this with children in their arms as they talk about the potential future.

"We'll do our best."

* * *

The Waverider arrived near midnight.

Oliver and Barry are standing near the old hangar when the time ship came, carrying the sleeping twins and beside them is Henry who seems rather upset that the accidental trip is finally over.

Two people came down. Sara raises an eyebrow at the kids, smirking and says to Oliver, "Family suits you." But she looks genuinely happy for him.

While Ray coos at the kids and looks at them preciously and saying, "It's a rather large family that you'll be having, I'd like to be their godfather." And then he clarifies that he meant as a secondary parent, not _the_ godfather.

"Here's our ride, Pops, Dad," Henry addresses them both after Ray and Sara carries the two kids in. He stands awkwardly for a second and then rushes to embrace each of them, much to their surprise. The young speedster gets his wallet and pulls two photos. "I borrowed a camera earlier. I want to keep them but I'm not sure if it's allowed in the rules of time-travel. Here, for remembrance."

They're two copies of a photo. It was earlier at the cortex, when Oliver and Barry are sitting and having Moira and Robert in their laps and at the right side of the image is Henry photobombing with a wide grin and pointing a thumb to the other four.

Barry grins at the picture. "Thanks, Henry. I'm sure your Dad likes this." He winks at Henry when he sees Oliver pursing his lips and trying not to smile. "See?"

"I'm right here," the vigilante says drily. "But, yes, thank you," he tells the boy honestly.

"You take care, okay?" Barry ruffles Henry's hair. "We'll see you around."

Oliver nods at the boy. "Take care, kid."

Henry smiles up to the two of them. "You too, Pops and Dad. There's some more stuffs you have to take care of so be careful!" Before rushing to the ship, he calls out, "Love you both, Moira and Robert said so too!"

And with that, the ship jumps to the year where the children are originally from.

"So that just happened." Barry stands unmoving with hands on his hips, and eyes still at the direction the ship vanished to.

"Tiring day," Oliver admits. "But it's alright, I suppose."

"I bet you got tired scowling at us." Barry snickers.

"I didn't scowl."

"You totally did, Ollie. I was worried you'll lash out to the kids."

"Are you included in the 'kids'?"

"Ha ha. Funny." Barry blinks. "Wait, you joked." He playfully nudges the older man on the side. " _Daddy_ is loosening up."

Oliver doesn't want to point out that hearing Barry say 'Daddy' is a bit different from the kid's. "At least I'm not called Pops."

"What's wrong with that? It sounds nice."

"It's for an old man."

"Ah, right. They should be calling you that instead, yeah?"

Oliver spares him a sideway glance, crossing his arms. "Time to shut up now."

"Make me," Barry challenges.

Oliver looks as if he's seriously thinking of an effective way. "Food?"

The speedster brightens at the idea. "Why not? I know a burger joint that's not Big Belly Burger."

When Barry nonchalantly takes him by the hand as they walk together without speeding, taking all the time in the world, Oliver doesn't mind one bit.

Instead, he laces their fingers together.

They fit.

* * *

 **THE END**

* * *

thanks?


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